


Morning Confessions

by Stiles-for-the-win (SwampWitch)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Date Rape Drug/Roofies, M/M, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Witchcraft, Witches, but not actually underage, no actual rape, peter hale is pissed, tw for date rape drugs, underage to drink, violent death in future chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-04-17 11:03:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14187504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwampWitch/pseuds/Stiles-for-the-win
Summary: "It is 2:30 in the morning, so this had better be good, Stiles."Shit.Peter's number was listed right under Chris's as Creeperwolf, and Stiles had hit the wrong one."Oh, um. thiss wuzza a. um. a mistake." Stiles slurred unevenly"Stiles."Peter's voiced sounded a lot more awake and a lot more intrigued. "Stiles are you drunk?" he sounded delighted."Yeah, but like, I shouldn't be." Stiles suddenly recalled that he had only had two drinks, and one of those was a virgin drink. His head was hurting, and felt before he saw the shadows moving at the other end of the block. His spark wasn't telling him anything, and more than anything, that made Stiles start to panic.





	1. The Jungle

 

 

    The Jungle was lit tonight, Stiles thought as he wavered in between warm bodies and loud music. Someone kept grinding against him, which he couldn't blame them, his ass looked fucking amazing in these jeans, but still. He had had enough. 

    Picking up his phone, he tried to call Scott, hoping that he wouldn't be out with Malia. There was no way in Hell he could drive right now. And the trashed underage son of the sheriff pulled over on a DUI? Stiles was sure that he could never face that shame. He was already starting to feel pretty lousy.

    After ten rings Stiles accepted that he may need to walk home.

    After a half a block, he had another idea.

    Scrolling through his contacts list, he looked for Chris Argent. He knew that after everything that they had been through, Chris would help him. Even if just to have something to hold over him when he needed a favor, although when it came right down to it, Chris was alright. There was also another alcohol- induced evening that Chris would very much like Stiles to keep quiet about. As if Stiles would share such treasured spank bank material. 

     _Ring Ring Ring Ring Ri-_

    "It is 2:30 in the morning, so this had better be good, Stiles."

     _Shit._

    Peter's number was listed right under Chris's as Creeperwolf, and Stiles had hit the wrong one.

    "Oh, um. Thiss wuzza a. Um. A mistake." Stiles slurred unevenly

    " _Stiles_." Peter's voiced sounded a lot more awake and a lot more intrigued. "Stiles, are you drunk?" he sounded delighted.

    "Yeah, but like, I- I shouldn't be." Stiles suddenly recalled that he had only had two drinks, and one of those was a virgin drink. His head was hurting, and he felt before he saw the shadows moving at the other end of the block. His spark wasn't telling him anything, and more than anything, that made Stiles start to panic.

    "Where are you." Peter's tone brooked no room for argument or delay.

    "I left the club, past the, um. The um. Coffeeshop! Pass the coffee, uh coffeeshop." 

    "The Jungle? Stay put." Stiles could hear Peter shuffling around, but as he did, he noticed the voices behind him were already louder and closer.

    "Peter, I can't. I think...I think I'm being followed, and I don't feel so good."

    "Okay. Keep moving. Stay wherever there are bright lights, but keep moving. I'll be able to smell you, so don't worry about losing me. Just stay where it's light."

* * *

 

    The back of Peter's car was comfy. and warm.

    Stiles was content. Peter tried not to notice the pleasant hum in his chest as he breathed in the scent of Stiles. He was more concerned about what else he could smell. Namely, rohypnol. someone would be paying dearly for that. Peter was far too attached to the pack Spark to allow for anyone to harm him in any way. Unless Stiles enjoyed that, but that was a topic for another evening. 

    Stiles kept rambling on about Peter's car, and Peter's attitude, and where did Peter even live, and oh, the older man had let himself get distracted.

    Stiles was talking about how he liked the feeling of Peter's hands on him, and the brush of Peter's beard, and the smell of his shampoo.

    Peter's wolf was preening within him. He was already feeling protective being this close to _Mate_. Not that any of the pack knew that, of course. There was another topic for another evening. For now, he needed to concentrate on getting Stiles somewhere safe, and settled. And looking for someone who had Hell to pay later on.

    " _Mmmmm_." Stiles mumbled as Peter gently manhandled him out of the car. 

    The curtains twitched aside, and Peter knew that his nosy neighbors would think him to be a kidnapper, what with how young and doe- like Stiles always looked. Not to mention that everyone in Beacon Hills knew the sheriff's son.

    Pitching his voice loud enough that anyone listening could hear, "Stiles, maybe next time don't have quite so much. Or I'll tell you to call a cab." _At least the neighbors will think he's drunk, and not that I drugged the boy._

    Stiles didn't acknowledge him in any way.

    Nothing for it. As they ascended the stairs, Peter unlocked his door. He carefully laid Stiles on the couch. 

    Pulling out his phone, he called the sheriff's station. 

    "Beacon Hills Sheriff's Department, this is Parrish."

    "Deputy Parrish. My name is Peter Hale, I have the sheriff's son with me. It seems he had a little problem this evening, and I wanted to be sure that this was handled with some discretion."

    "Understood, thank you for your concern, Mr. Hale. If you can give me some details, I'll let Sheriff Stilinski know once he's back."

    "Oh, is he not available now?"

    "No there were some concerned calls at a nightclub in town. The bartender thought he saw someone dosing drinks."

    "The bartender was right."

    "Shit."

    "Yes. I have him, and he is safe, but he _was_  being followed. I will be handling that personally."

    "I would advise against that. Wait for the Sheriff."

    "I will do no such thing. Please do inform the Sheriff that his wayward offspring is safe with me."

    Peter hung up the call before the hellhound could respond. He looked over at Stiles. His wolf was practically wagging its tail. _Mate_  was here. In his home, his den. But Mate was unwell, and that stirred protectiveness in Peter. Lifting the boy's slender frame, he carried him to his bedroom, and laid him down. 

    Carefully removing Stiles' shoes and jacket, Peter pulled the blanket over him. The boy would be asleep for hours more yet, and Peter had work to do. 


	2. The Sheriff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sheriff wants to know what concern Stiles is of Peter's.

 

    The trail was running cold. Peter was furious. He was a fucking werewolf, no trail should be cold to him, especially not one less than two hours old. 

    _Hmmm_. The scent of sharp ozone and something _other_ was bitter and stuck in Peter's nose. This wasn't like Stiles' magic. This was angry, and dark, and old. Stiles' magic smelled like fresh air in a rainstorm, and early mornings after the fog clears. Stiles' magic was tender, and protective, and beautiful. This magic was violent, and ugly. 

    Peter couldn't understand why this hideous affront of magic smelled so overwhelming. He couldn't even _smell_ Stiles' magic here.

    _That's not right. I know that's not right. Even when I found Stiles, he smelled wrong._

Realization shook Peter. Stiles didn't smell the right way, because he didn't smell like magic. He smelled like he had the night Peter first met him in the hospital, when he first realized that Stiles was his mate. But now, something was missing. Stiles' _magic_ was missing.

    _Just let me find whomever is after_ my _mate._

    Headlights drove past, and Peter recognized the Sheriff's cruiser. The car pulled to the side of the road.

    Noah Stilinski stepped out of the cruiser, and closed the door. Leaning his hands against the hood, he sighed deeply. With his voiced raised, but not quite shouting, he spoke out into the surrounding woods behind the street where Stiles had been.

    "Hale!"

    Peter didn't move.

    "Damn it, I know you're out here. I just want to find out who did this to my son."

    Peter carefully made his way to the road, and stood beside the sheriff.

    The sheriff looked surprised as he registered Peter's presence. 

    "You... you are not the Hale that I was expecting."

    Peter didn't know what to do with that information. 

    "Well, I was the Hale that Stiles called, and the one who went to collect him. I doubt sincerely that my nephew would be troubled to get out of bed."

    "I thought that, too. Parrish only said Hale." They stood in silence for a moment. "Well, get in."

    Peter raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

    "You are heading somewhere, you have to have an idea that I don't have yet."

    "I think it's a witch. An old witch. But I don't know why she would be after Stiles. I do know that something is binding his magic, and I don't know if it's from the drugs, or something else."

    They climbed into the car. As Peter pulled his seat belt forward, Noah asked quietly, "Do you think it will wear off?"

    "I don't know. I won't know anything until he wakes."

    The pair drove in almost silence for several minutes, only changing paths at Peter's direction. Finally, Peter sighed, resignedly. "This is no use. The scent trail is entirely gone."

    "I didn't think that was possible. At least for your kind."

    Peter let the ' _your kind_  ' slip by, since he knew that the sheriff hadn't intended the insult. 

    The sheriff pulled the car over again, and put it in park. Turning in his seat, he regarded Peter with a scrutiny that made Peter uncomfortable.

    "What exactly is the nature of your concern for my son? In the past you seemed to be self- serving, narcissistic, and conniving. What dragged _you_  out of bed to go search for the people after my boy?"

    Peter had hoped that this was a conversation he never needed to have. Especially with someone friendly enough with Chris Argent to be stocked up on wolfsbane.

    "How much do you know about werewolves, Sheriff?"

    "Not nearly enough, considering that I'm up to my ears in them."

    Peter snickered at that. "I know that you know about anchors." At the sheriff's nod, he continued, "Stiles is mine. My anchor."

    "Not your daughter?"

    "Malia is _pack_. But no, she is not my anchor."

    "Is Stiles pack? I didn't think that you were in Scott's pack."

    "I'm not, and never will be. By pack, I mean pack _bond_. I have a powerful pack bond with my daughter, and a weaker one with my nephew. The weakest I have is Cora, she is too far away to keep the bond strong."

    "And Stiles?"

    Peter scrubbed his hands over his face, and sighed again. "Stiles is the strongest pack bond that I have. I can feel when he is hurt, or upset, and I have a greater sense of where he is."

    "I didn't think you and Stiles were that close." The sheriff frowned, and looked at his hands.

    It was now or never. Rather than let the sheriff think that Stiles was back to keeping secrets, Peter decided if there was anyone he needed on his side, it was Noah Stilinski.

    "Stiles has no idea."

    "What? How does that work?"

    "Stiles... He is my mate. My wolf has chosen and acknowledged him as my anchor, my soulmate, if you will." At the conflicted look on the sheriff's face, he added, "It isn't something that I have control over. But I care very deeply about your son. That is why I have never told him. I haven't told anyone."

    "And now you've told me."

    "Yes. I would appreciate that information staying quiet."

    The sheriff put the cruiser back into drive, and turned back towards where he had picked up Peter. 

    "Sheriff, I-"

    "Noah."

    "I'm sorry?"

    "If you and my son are soulmates, or mates, or whatever, then it sounds like there is nothing I can do about that, right?" Peter nodded, speechless. "Well, I refuse to be the man that interferes with the person who has the potential to make my son the happiest. At this point, I'm just glad it's someone who is capable of keeping him safe. Knowing Stiles, he'll never be happy with someone that isn't whip smart, and at least a little bit dangerous. He would be foolish to not see what he has in front of him. You just have to show him."

    Peter was at a complete loss for words. He had never in his life been so thoroughly accepted on so little grounds. And the Sheriff's, _Noah's_ , astute description of the situation made it clear where Stiles' cleverness had come from. 

    "Noah... I don't really know what to say."

    "Say that you'll never hurt my son, or put him in an ethical position he doesn't want to be in, and that you'll help me track down whoever is after him and make sure they disappear."

    A sliver of fear shuddered down Peter's spine. His wolf all but sat down within him and came to attention. It seemed that the streak of ruthlessness that Stiles kept in check was inherited as well.

    "I will never hurt Stiles, I _could_  never hurt Stiles. I will never put him into a position that he cannot handle, and whoever is after _my mate_  will not see another sunrise when I find them."

    Noah pulled the car over next to Peter's. "Go check on my boy. When you have a lead, call me. I'll be in touch."

    Peter stepped out, and had a hand on his car door when he felt a twinge in his chest as the sheriff pulled away. It took him a long moment to understand what was happening. Something he hadn't felt in a very long time. Very faint, and still weak, was a fledgling pack bond with the father of his mate, Noah Stilinski. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Peter discovers what blackmail Stiles has on Chris Argent.


	3. The Blackmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has some blackmail on Chris Argent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! My uncle has been unwell and hospitalized, so I haven't had much time to write.

     It was still early, too early even for the most eager pre- dawn light. Peter closed his apartment door quietly, so as not to rouse his sleeping,  _drugged_ , he thought bitterly, human. The slight smell of ozone eked out from the bedroom, settling something within him. As Peter stepped further into the apartment, he smelled rainwater, ozone, and fresh earth. _At least his magic is still here._

Slipping quietly into the room, Peter closed the door, and clicked on the side lamp on the night table. Breathing deeply, he found no lingering scent of the drugs, a sure-fire sign that Stiles' magic was hard at work. 

    Peter sat on the side of the bed where the human lay. _My human._  

    The movement caused Stiles to stir. He moaned softly and his beautiful hazel eyes blinked open. Stretching out his lanky body, he sat up and looked right at Peter.

    "Uh, where am I?" Stiles looked confused, and he smelled unsettled. Peter's wolf felt its tail droop.

    "This is my apartment, Stiles. Do you remember last night?"

    Peter immediately regretted his choice of words, as he saw shock cross Stiles' face and panic seep into his scent. 

    "You drunkenly called me to come collect you from your den of iniquity. I discovered when I arrived that someone had drugged you."

    Stiles looked thoughtful. "I... remember a little. I was afraid. But I feel safe here. With you. I always feel safe with you." At this he looked up into Peter's eyes. "But-"

    "Yes?"

    "I didn't call you?" He said it like a question.

    "I assure you that you did."

    Stiles grabbed for his phone. "Oh."

    "Yes?"

    "I thought I called Chris."

    "Chris? Chris Argent?" Peter leveled an impressive bitch- face towards the spark, willing his wolf not snarl. "And he would have climbed out of bed to come get you? At this hour?"

    An interesting thing happened then. Stiles' scent soured into a mix of embarrassment, guilt, and arousal. And shame. His face reddened and he turned his face away.

    "Stiles? Has something happened between you and Argent?" The shame scent increased sharply, and Peter's wolf leaped to the surface and he growled. "Has Argent taken _advantage_ of you, Stiles? I can promise you, hunter or no, he won't live through another suns-"

    "No."

    "No?"

    "No. He, well, _I_... It's a little complicated. I'm not sure I can really explain. But I can show you?" Stiles grabbed Peter's hand and rested it against the back of his neck.

    "This is dangerous, especially for a human. Do you trust me so much?"

    "Of course I trust you." Stiles said it as an almost brush- off, but Peter felt it in his very soul. His heart clenched at how much it meant to him to be trusted by _Mate_. 

    Extending his claws, Peter sank them into the tender skin, and looked for the memory Stiles was focusing on.

   

* * *

_It was dark, and it was late. But they needed wolfsbane bullets, and there was only one person who them already prepared. And so, at 2:30 in the morning, Stiles found himself outside Chris Argent's door. After the third ring, Stiles accepted that Chris was completely dead to the world, or out for the evening._

_As he turned to go, he heard the door unlatch behind him. Stiles' jaw dropped. Chris Argent was dressed only in soft grey sweatpants, and he held a bottle of Jack Daniels. A bottle that was already missing a third._

_"Heeeey, Mr. Argent. Maybe this isn't the best time..."_

_"Stiles, I'm already up and you're already here. What did you need?" His voice sounded deeper and more gravelly than usual, and Stiles was not unaffected._

_"I, uh, well_ we, _needed some wolfsbane, and I hate to bother you,-"_

_Chris stepped back from the door, and motioned for Stiles to come in. Carefully closing the door behind him, Stiles followed the older man into his new apartment. He'd only been here once before, after all no one expected to go back to the same apartment he had shared with Allison. Stiles was so busy looking around that he didn't see when Chris stopped. He plowed right into the back of him, causing them both to stumble to the carpet._

_Stiles was sprawled half under the older man, neither speaking. Stiles was about to make a smart comment when he saw that Chris's eyes were dilated, and his pulse was racing_. Of course _, he thought_ , He would have to be drinking to let his guard down enough for me to see this. 

_"Mr. Argent, not that you aren't really hot and all, but this floor is an unforgiving little bitch, and-"_

_Before he could utter another word, Chris had him lifted and his back pressed against the wall._

_"Stiles." His head was bowed down, and he tilted his head up to look Stiles in the eye._

_"Are you going to stand there and look at me like that, or are you going to do something about this?" Shimmying his hips to make his point, Stiles leaned into Chris's hold, knowing that Chris could feel how hard he was_. 

    "Stiles." _This time he sounded wrecked, and strained, like he was barely holding himself together_. _"Stiles, we can't. This is a bad idea."_

_Chris let him go, and stepped away. Turning around, he took a swig from the bottle he had set down._

_"Why? You want this_. _I want this. What's the problem?" Leaving him no room to speak, Stiles stepped into his space and kissed him._

_Chris's brain all but shorted out. This boy could_ kiss. _It was open mouthed and filthy, and everything that Chris wanted. Feeling his resolve crumble, he lifted Stiles up into his arms_.

    _Stiles wrapped his long legs around Chris's waist, vaguely registering them moving down the hall. He heard a door open, and broke the kiss long enough to realize that they were in a bedroom. Chris's bedroom._

    Oh my god I'm in Chris Argent's bedroom.  _As Chris gently tossed him into the bed, Stiles let out a small, undignified squeak._ Oh my god I'm in Chris Argent's bed. 

    _Chris knelt onto the bed, and pulled himself over top of Stiles. "One last chance, Stiles. Tell me you want this. You want_ me."

_Stiles gently cupped his hands around Chris's face. "I can't promise you that I want more than one night. But for tonight, all I want is_ you _."_

_Chris let out a growl would have been impressive for one of the wolves._

_Stiles couldn't help himself. He moaned and bucked his hips up against Chris_. "Please."

_After that it was a blur of clothes coming off, and Chris's beard gently scratching at Stiles everywhere he kissed him._

_When Stiles was completely bared before him, Chris stood. His eyes roving over all of the pale, smooth skin. Stiles blushed under the scrutiny, about to turn his eyes away, when Chris dropped the sweatpants he had on_. Of course he's not wearing underwear. 

_Stepping out of the sweatpants around his feet, Chris climbed back onto the bed, but stopped short at Stiles' knees. Stiles gazed down at him in confusion._

_All of a sudden, Chris ducked his head down, and Stiles barely had time to register the stubbly scratch of Chris's beard when he felt the warmth and wetness and his tongue swiping up against his hole. Stiles moaned again, a high pitched keening_.

* * *

    Peter ripped his claws out of Stiles' neck before he could see any more. He knew that his mate had had other lovers, but knowing that Argent was one of them burned him in a way worse than fire.

    "Peter?"

    Peter stood, stiffly. "I was concerned that he had taken advantage of you. Such a fresh- faced young man, and he-"

    "Peter, are you _jealous_?"

    Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to say anything. 

    "You should rest some more. I will let your father know that you're awake and your magic seems to be back in order."

    "You _are_ jealous, Peter, wait!"

    Peter was already out the door, and then the apartment, when Stiles felt his phone buzz.

    _< Help yourself to anything you desire in my apartment. If you want a shower, the towels are in the closet beside the master bathroom.>_

_ <Dude are you coming back? We need to talk about this.>  
_

_ <I will return later. Rest.>  
_

Stiles laid the phone down, knowing he would get no answers from Peter until Peter was ready. 

    Standing, he walked to the bathroom and started filling the enormous claw- footed tub with hot water. A good, healing bath was just what he needed right now. He went to the kitchen to see what herbs Peter had handy that he could utilize. Then he could relax and evaluate what he was feeling about Peter Hale.

* * *

    Peter Hale felt like a coward. Rather than telling his mate the truth, or even that they were mates, Peter had fled. He needed to placate his wolf. And right now his wolf needed to make it very clear to one Christopher Argent that Mieczyslaw Stilinski was absolutely off limits. 

 

 

    

    

 

 

 


	4. The Misunderstanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully with semester over, I will have more frequent updates!

  While the enormous bathtub filled with hot water, Stiles picked through the, quite frankly, _ridiculous_ spice rack in Peter's kitchen. Obviously the man knew how to cook. Stiles filed that information for a later time. He kept mulling over in his mind Peter's words and actions. Everything about Peter the last couple of months had just seemed _off_. Something was different about him. He was trustworthy, for the most part, now that he wasn't as crazy. He would still never be completely on the up and up, but still. There was a piece to this puzzle that Stiles couldn't see, and ever his father's son, he knew he needed to investigate it. 

    Thinking on Peter's reaction to Stiles' memory of Chris, he pulled out his phone while he clinked and clanked his way through the dozens of herb and spice jars in the rack.

    "Stiles?"

    "Hey, Chris. You got a sec?"

    "For you? Always." Stiles tried to ignore the obvious smile in Chris's voice. 

    "So, long story short- I'm at Peter's place, and-"

    "Are you alright? Do you need me to come get you?" Chris was suddenly all business, and in the background Stiles could here the sound of a metal gun locker opening.

    "No no no! I'm fine! I, uh, I had an incident last night, and I meant to call you, but I ended up calling Peter instead, and he kinda rescued me from some badness."

    "Stiles-"

    "I promise I will explain later, but right now I think that Peter might be looking for you."

    "For me? Why?"

    "He, well he kinda found out about that night this summer. He reacted weird and when I asked him about it, he got cagey. If he wasn't you know, _Peter_ , I would say he was jealous."

    Part of Chris beamed in pride at the thought of the wolf being jealous of him. 

    "Well for what it's worth, Stiles, I _have_  been handling werewolves most of my life. Peter Hale isn't going to be a problem for me."

    "Right, right, I uh, just wanted to give you a heads up I guess?"

    "Stiles what else is bothering you? You sound really anxious."

    "Can I say something and hope we can still be friends after I say it?"

    The line was silent for a heartbeat. "Stiles there is nothing you could tell me that would change how I think of you."

    Stiles gulped a bit at that. "That night."

    "Yeah?"

    "I'm kinda upset about how that whole night went down."

    "Jesus, Stiles. Why did you never say anything? And if you couldn't talk to me, why not someone else? Hell even Lydia?"

    "Chris, I just-"

    "Stiles." Chris sounded wrecked, and not in the fun way. "Be honest with me. Did I hurt you?"

    Stiles' mind blanked for a moment. "What?! Did _you_  hurt _me_?" He said incredulously. "Chris I took advantage of a drunk man, and _you're_  worried about _me_?"

    Chris' deep laughter across the line was not at all what Stiles' expected to hear. The man had to stop and catch his breath. 

    "Stiles. Listen very carefully to me, okay?"

    "Okay." 

    "You did not, _in any way_ , take advantage of me. That bottle was opened earlier that week. I had only had about two shots out of it when I answered the door. I promise you, I wasn't even tipsy."

    "But, what happened that night? When we, when we, um..."

    "When we had sex, Stiles? I wanted that. I wanted _you_. That wasn't the alcohol, Stiles. That was me, and I am so sorry if you felt like I had to be drinking to want you."

    "I just thought, I mean we haven't even really _talked_  since then, I thought maybe you wanted me to not be around."

    "Stiles. You are a very sweet boy for being so concerned over this, but I promise, you didn't take advantage, and I'm not upset. I thought you had only wanted that one night, so I never pushed for more."

    "Well this got awkward."

    "Maybe so, but I'm glad we cleared the air. I thought you were going to tell me that I hurt you. I know I wasn't exactly gentle." He paused. "Now tell me what happened last night that had _Peter Hale_  come out to save you."

    Perhaps the quick and ugly, details left out version, was not the best version to give to Chris, but Stiles needed to get back to the tub, and he needed to think. The hunter was smart, he could extrapolate the details he needed anyway. Setting his phone on the kitchen counter, Stiles grabbed his handful of herbs and made his way back to the bathroom.

     He was delighted to see the tub almost completely full. But with no bag of any kind to contain the herbs, he started sprinkling them in with abandon. 

    "Rosemary: protect me, purify me, and make me remember. Lemongrass: heal me, and sharpen my mind. Salt: Cleanse my magic, and protect my spark. Lavender: calm me, give me peace enough to think. Thyme: let me focus on my energy so that I can rest. And sage: do something about this fucking anxiety."

    With his magic and the herbs in the bath, Stiles let himself slip into the water, and the spell work wash over him.

\------

 

    Across town, Chris Argent sat in the chair in his office, thinking about his night with Stiles. About how beautiful the boy looked in his bed, and how unlikely he was to ever have him there again. In his musing, he heard a knock at the front door. Rising slowly, and tucking a gun into the waistband of his pants, Chris walked carefully to the front of the apartment. Looking through the peephole, he sighed deeply, and opened the door for a murderous- looking Peter Hale. 

    


	5. Chapter 5

This is not a chapter this is a test 

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